Confessions
by Stoneheart1
Summary: As a peaceful Fifth Year at Hogwarts unfolds, new feelings awaken. Some are voiced openly, some remain unspoken -- and some, for a time, are entirely unsuspected. All that changes, in most surprising fashion, on a cold December morning.


**Author's Note:** Before beginning another multi-part story, pregnant with mystery and drama (the story, not me), I elected to ease the process by posting a short, one-chapter romance. Okay, it's a LITTLE angsty at first. But as it's a short story, the angst is swept away in short order. And it's _nothing_ to what I'll be putting Harry through _next_ time -- ah, but that would be telling! Time enough for that. For now, simply enjoy.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Harry and his friends (and enemies) all belong to JK Rowling. If they belonged to _me_, the bloody fifth book would have been out in 2001! But, of course, it wouldn't have been nearly as good. Still -- THREE YEARS! I mean, REALLY!  
  
  


***

  
  
Harry whipped his Firebolt back and forth across the Quidditch pitch. His flimsy robes snapped and billowed behind him. The icy wind cut his face like razors. The fingers gripping the handle of his broomstick were numb, red. Red also were his eyes, bloodshot, puffy and wet with tears.  
  
"Idiot!" he grimaced through clenched teeth. "Couldn't keep your bloody mouth shut! Idiot! IDIOT!"  
  


*

  
  
  
Fifth year had been the most uneventful yet for Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
Though Voldemort had regained most of his personal power and strength last year, yet was his power base in such disarray that he was presently no threat to Harry -- or, indeed, to the wizarding world. The Dark Lord needed time to reconsolidate. And though the Ministry (read: Cornelius Fudge), dismissing all evidence, refused to assign Aurors, yet an able body of independents labored incessantly for the cause. The re-formed Order of the Phoenix, led by Albus Dumbledore and abetted by agents such as Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, kept constant pressure on the Dark forces in the months following Voldemort's resurrection.  
  
These selfless efforts left Hogwarts blissfully isolated from the cares of the magical community, and the three friends found it a welcome respite after the last four hectic years.  
  
Harry spent much of his time those first months in the company of Cho Chang. Still burdened by guilt over his part in the death of Cedric Diggory, Harry felt an enormous compassion for the girl whose grief dwarfed his own, and, indeed, rivaled that of the slain boy's parents.  
  
Harry had nurtured a schoolboy crush on Cho for the last two years. This was now replaced by an almost brotherly love. The pain in her eyes pierced him like a Curse, and he was convinced that none at school was better qualified than he to understand her grief, and thereby to ease it.  
  
They spent long hours together talking, a good many during weekend walks by the lake or along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. In the course of one of the latter sojourns, Harry formally introduced Cho to Hagrid, whom she knew only distantly from her weekly Care of Magical Creatures classes. She soon saw through the giant's fearsome facade to the childlike heart underneath. His tearful empathy for her loss proved a valuable balm in the weeks and months that followed.  
  
Harry's and Cho's mutual love of Quidditch served as a common bonding ground, and many a sunny Saturday afternoon was passed in playful chasing of Golden Snitches -- and, not infrequently, each other -- through the sky above the grassy field.  
  
It was a slow healing, but in time Cho's beautiful smile began to return, along with Harry's own. Cho's musical laughter brightened the increasingly gloomy Winter days, and as Christmas approached, both of them even dared hope it might be a merry one after all.  
  
  
All this while, Ron and Hermione had responded to Harry's prolonged absences by growing closer in ways that surprised the two of them no less than those around them. Their arguments became fewer and less heated. They spent many pleasant weekends in Hogsmeade, shopping and sightseeing and sipping warm butterbeer. They studied together, played wizard chess (Hermione finally won a game, gloating for two full weeks thereafter) and Exploding Snap. And when Hermione again took up her crusade for Elf rights, Ron contributed significantly by re-naming the movement H.E.L.P. (House Elf Liberation Project).  
  
Long-time friends and acquaintences noted that Ron seemed to be maturing in Hermione's company. His grades rose, his temper became less incendiary; he even shrugged off his constant teasing at the hands of Fred and George with such grace that even the twins had to acknowledge the improvement (though not to his face).  
  
Christmas break brought the usual desertions from Hogwarts as most students left to spend the holidays with their families. Harry remained, of course, along with Hermione and most of the Weasleys. Ginny was going home, but Fred and George had too many projects going to leave them unattended. And Ron was more than content to remain and spend the holidays with Hermione.  
  
Cho was going home, but if Ron and Hermione expected to see more of Harry in her absence, they were mistaken. Whereas he had always sought out his friends during those times when Cho was busy, in the last month he had taken to spending most of his free time alone, either walking the school grounds, talking with Hagrid, or lazily flying his Firebolt on the Quidditch pitch.  
  
It was not until the night before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave Hogsmeade that the mystery began to unravel.  
  
  


*

  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about," said Ginny Weasley as she finished packing for her trip home.  
  
"I do," asserted Parvati Patil smugly. "Got it straight from Padma, didn't I?"  
  
Ginny knew that, by a quirk of the Sorting Hat, the Patil twins resided in different houses: Parvati in Gryffindor, Padma in Ravenclaw.  
  
"She's not even in the same year as Cho," Ginny retorted.  
  
"So?" Just because they don't share a dorm doesn't mean they can't talk. You and I are talking, aren't we?"  
  
This was a reasonable argument. Parvati was in fifth year, Ginny in fourth.  
  
"I still don't believe it," Ginny said at last, bending to close a dresser drawer.  
  
Parvati shrugged.  
  
"Suit yourself. I'm off to tell Lavender."  
  
"NO!" Ginny piped, straightening. "It'll be all over school before the train pulls out tomorrow!"  
  
"What do you care?" Parvati smiled. "If it's not true..."  
  
"That's not the point!"  
  
Parvati stood with her arms folded triumphantly.  
  
"Let me talk to Harry," Ginny said, her eyes pleading. "Don't tell Lavender until you get on the train -- please!"  
  
"Okay," Parvati relented at last. "Anyway, this is too good to waste the week before Christmas -- " A wicked smile crossed her full lips, " -- but what a way to start the new year!"  
  
Ginny slumped on her bed as Parvati swept down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
"Harry," Ginny muttered, her fiery brows meeting above her freckled nose, "if Padma is telling the truth -- I'll _kill_ you! I swear by Merlin, I'll make that basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets look like Trevor the Toad!"  
  
  


*

  
  
  
The next morning found the Gryffindor common room all but empty. The students who were leaving on the Hogwarts Express had all taken their baggage down early to load them on the horseless carriages before going down to breakfast.  
  
All but one.  
  
"Harry, how COULD you!"  
  
Ginny's screams were rebounding from the common room walls, her face nearly as red as her flaming hair.  
  
"Padma had no right!" Harry shouted, quite as livid as Ginny. His Firebolt was in his hand, and he gripped the shaft so fiercely it seemed the wood might splinter. "That was said in confidence!"  
  
"Don't tell _me_, tell _Cho_!" Ginny countered. "_She's_ the one who told Padma, who of course told her sister --   
  
"Who of course told _you_," Harry sneered. "Thank goodness it wasn't Lavender!"  
  
"Wellll..." Ginny began, suddenly contrite.  
  
Harry's mouth fell open.  
  
"It's still all your fault!" Ginny said with renewed ire. "How could you possibly tell Cho -- " She broke off, her hand swiping the air angrily.  
  
"Because it's true," Harry said quietly.  
  
"No!" Ginny squealed, tears flooding her eyes. "It's not fair! It's not -- "  
  
She turned away, wiping her eyes.  
  
"Actually, Cho told _me_," Harry said, lowering his eyes. "She said it was obvious -- that I'd been blind and stupid not to see it myself a long time ago -- and she was right..."  
  
"No," Ginny sobbed, her face in her hands. "No. Ron is happy...happier than he's ever been...everything was so...so right..."  
  
"I'm not going to tell them," Harry said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "They're my best friends. I'd never do anything to spoil their happiness"  
  
Ginny wiped her eyes and turned to face Harry.  
  
"But that doesn't change the way I feel," Harry said resolutely. "The truth is still the truth. And the truth is, I _am_...hopelessly...in love with Hermione."  
  
The next moment a sharp, gasping squeal rent the air. Harry and Ginny both spun about, shock and horror painting their faces.  
  
Hermione stood at the open portrait hole. Her eyes were so wide that she lacked only long, pointed ears to pass as an oversized house elf. Her mouth gaped soundlessly. Harry had not seen such a look on Hermione's face since the time in first year when he and Ron had saved her from certain death at the hands of a twelve-foot mountain troll.  
  
Staring at Hermione now, Harry could not say which of the two terror-faces was the more fearsome to behold.  
  
The three stood as if frozen in time; then, without a sound, Hermione bolted up the stairs to her dormitory.  
  
A moment later Harry rushed through the portrait hole, leaving Ginny alone in the common room, too stunned to move. At last she roused herself and walked up the dormitory stairs, afraid even to breathe.  
  
She found Hermione sobbing into her pillow. Her own tears starting now, Ginny sat down on the bed and placed a cautious hand on Hermione's shoulder. At once Hermione sprang up and fell into Ginny's arms, wailing so sorrowfully that Ginny felt her own heart might break then and there.  
  
"Don't worry," Ginny said when at last she could speak. "It'll be okay -- I'll owl Mum and Dad -- tell them I'm staying -- "  
  
"No!" Hermione gasped, pulling back; her bushy brown hair was in wild disarray, covering much of her face. "Ginny, please don't -- I'll be okay -- really I will!"  
  
She began to brush her hair out of her face, alternately wiping her eyes. Her refocussed gaze fell on Ginny's shoulder, saw the damp spot her tears had left; her trembling lips emitted an involuntary chirp of laughter.  
  
Ginny began to stroke Hermione's hair back into a semblance of order.  
  
"You really sure?"  
  
Hermione nodded, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her robes.  
  
"How do I tell him?" she said in a low quaver, seeming to speak more to herself than to Ginny. "How do I break the heart of one of my two best friends?"  
  
"I've never had that problem," Ginny said with a playful smile. "But I'll swap."  
  
They hugged ferociously for a moment, then Ginny rose slowly and walked down the stairs, looking back as Hermione lay down on her bed with her hands folded.  
  
Ginny entered the common room just in time to see Ron stride in through the portrait hole.  
  
"What's up with Harry?" he asked, a puzzled furrow on his brow. "He's out on the Quidditch pitch, dartin' about like a maniac. And it's freezing out there, and he's not even wearing a cloak! He gone off his trolley?"  
  
Ginny was searching her chaotic thoughts for an answer when Ron looked around suddenly.  
  
"Almost forgot why I came in. Is Hermione here? She had to get a shopping list before we go to Hogsmeade. She upstairs?"  
  
Ginny stared at her brother for a moment, then walked over to a chair next to the fire. She looked up, nodded toward another chair.  
  
"We need to talk, Ron. It's...important."  
  
Ron sat down without a word, giving her his full attention. It almost made her want to cry; he was so different from the old, immature Ron.  
  
But how would he react to this?  
  
Slowly, in full detail, Ginny told him of her conversations with Parvati and Harry, and of the latter's repercussions when Hermione unexpectedly walked in.  
  
She studied Ron's face as she spoke. A strange calm settled upon him near the end, and she feared it presaged a storm to come.  
  
When she finished, she held her breath, saying a silent prayer.  
  
"Right," Ron said, standing up. "I'd better go talk to Hermione."  
  
"Uh, it's okay, isn't it?" He inclined his head toward the girls' staircase. "Everyone's gone?"  
  
Ginny nodded. Her eyes followed Ron as he disappeared up the stairs. And for just a moment it was as if she were watching Percy. This new, mature Ron was -- spooky!  
  
  


*

  
  
Ron found Hermione as Ginny had left her. So silently did he approach that she did not take her eyes from the canopy of her four-poster until he was right beside her.  
  
She started as if waking from a trance. She sat up, pushing her hair away from her face. Ron lent a hand, smiling gently as he sat down beside her. The mattress bowed under their combined weight, and they slid together until their hips touched.  
  
Their eyes met, and Hermione saw that Ron knew everything. She threw her arms around his neck and began to cry. He pulled her to him, stroking her hair comfortingly.  
  
"Oh, Ron," she sobbed softly into his neck. "I don't know what to do!"  
  
"I do," Ron said, his mouth near her ear as he nuzzled her hair. His voice was soft, but firm, decisive. "You're going to go down and look Harry straight in the eye -- and tell him you love him!"  
  
Hermione jerked back as from an electric shock, her eyes and mouth exploding wide in perfect concert.  
  
Ron suppressed a chuckle.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley grows 'em tall, luv -- she doesn't grow 'em stupid."  
  
Suddenly Hermione found she could not look at Ron. She turned her head slightly, lowering her eyes.  
  
"Ron, no -- I -- you..."  
  
Ron took her hand and squeezed it.  
  
"I've known for ages. Mad-Eye Moody could see it with his ruddy eye plucked out!"  
  
He gave her hand another squeeze.  
  
"It was just after Harry's battle with You-Know-Who in first year. We sat in that hospital waiting room for three days, not knowing if Harry would live or die. It changed the both of us, those three days. Me, I found another brother. And you..."  
  
Ron paused, cleared his throat.  
  
"I knew that look in your eye. Dunno _how_ I knew, but I did. Saw it clear as ink on parchment. I saw it then -- "  
  
He grasped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his.  
  
" -- and I see it now -- stronger than ever.  
  
"And now that Harry's finally come to his senses, it's time to set things back on their proper course."  
  
Hermione's eyelids dropped, her long lashes dewy.  
  
"What about us, Ron? You and me? I thought we had something...special..."  
  
"We do," Ron said. "And that's not going to change -- at least, not in the sense of what's real."  
  
He pulled her hands to his lips and kissed them.  
  
"I do love you. Maybe even more than I know. And I know you love me.  
  
"But you love Harry more.  
  
"I was never kidding myself. I knew I was your second choice. And that was okay. It didn't make your love any less real. I knew the only thing that could muck it up was for Harry to take his head out of his arse! But it didn't look like he was going to, did it? So I thought, 'Right, if he's too much of a berk to see what's right in front of him, I'M NOT!'  
  
"But I always knew, luv. I knew where your heart was, even if you didn't.  
  
"I want you to be happy! Happy as you can possibly be! That's -- that's what love _is_, isn't it?"  
  
He pulled her against him, felt her tears wetting his robes.  
  
"Go to him, Hermione," he said in a choked voice, kissing her hair. "Tell him.  
  
"And tell him something else, from me. Tell him...if he ever breaks your heart..." He hugged her tightly, his voice cracking, "...he'll have to polish his broom handle by stuffing the cleaning rag down his ruddy throat!"  
  
The two of them rocked gently for moments that seemed without end.  
  
"I do love you, Ron," Hermione said very softly.  
  
"I know," he returned in a pained hush. Then, aloud: "Now, get out of here before I change my mind and put a Body-Bind Curse on you!"  
  
Hermione hugged Ron's neck, kissed his cheek, then stood up shakily, smoothing out her robes before reaching for her cloak.  
  
"He's at the Quidditch pitch," Ron said, "buzzing about like a mad hornet. Don't forget your wand."  
  
Hermione patted her wand pocket, smiled a teary smile.  
  
"And fix your face," he scolded. "You're a right sight, you are. Dunno what I ever saw in you."  
  
She hugged him one last time, then sprinted down the stairs.  
  
Wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, Ron followed. He met a bewildered Ginny below.  
  
"Ron," she said, the image of Hermione's swift, silent departure burned into her brain, "what did you _do_?"  
  
Ron hesitated, then said, "Something...something I think Percy would have done." He shivered, hunching his shoulders, as if reacting to a particularly unsavory Bertie Botts' Bean. Then, smiling, he placed an arm around Ginny's shoulders. "Come on, I'll tell you on the way to the carriage."  
  
And by the time he had closed the door of the carriage and stood waving goodbye, Ginny was certain that she had never loved her brother quite so much in all her life as she did in that moment.  
  
  


*

  
  
  
Hermione stood at the edge of the Quidditch pitch, watching the tiny form flitting above like a streak of black-robed lightning.  
  
Tugging her cloak more tightly about her, she raised her wand and cried, "_Accio Firebolt_!"  
  
Before she had finished pocketing her wand, she felt a rush of wind at her side.  
  
Harry sat gripping his broom, looking quite as stunned as if he had been hit between the eyes by a Bludger. His face, burned by the cold air, was redder than Ron's; while his hair, untidy at best, looked even wilder than Hagrid's.  
  
His mouth moved, but no sound came out.  
  
Hermione stepped over the broom handle and settled in front of Harry, giving silent thanks to the unremembered witch or wizard who was the creator of the Cushioning Charm.  
  
"Up we go, Fly Boy," she said with a sly smile. "We have a lot to talk about, and I don't want anyone walking in on us. That common room is like King's Cross sometimes -- never know who's going to barge in on a private conversation, do you?"  
  
Harry, attempting to speak, managed only a faint squeaking sound.  
  
Laughing softly, Hermione kicked off from the ground.  
  
Acting purely by instinct, Harry slipped an arm protectively around her waist, pulling her against him.  
  
And at his touch, Hermione sighed, suddenly not feeling the cold wind at all.  
  
  


***

  
  
**Note From Fae:** I know it sounds like there's a sequel, or another chapter coming, but you're WRONG! There isn't a continuation for it, but I bet if you beg real nice, Stoneheart *could* come up with something. But I make no promises. I hope you enjoyed this one. I, personally, love it a LOT. So leave a review for the author! Harry and Hermoine FOREVER!  



End file.
